I'm not surprised he got a nasty jar.

Try to picture it! The growing dark; the roar of the rapid that we know he hates; and the wet hand that rose from the eddy and seized his foot." Scott nodded.

"Just so! _Whose_ hand do you imagine he thought it was ?" "I think we both suspect.

But we agreed that suspicion was not enough." "It is not enough," said Scott, who took his fishing rod from the pegs in the wall of the shack.

"Well, shall we go down to the river?
The trout ought to rise to-night.".